Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
I'm almost at the end of the road with 2006, at least as far as my job
is concerned. Tomorrow is my last real workday of the year. I might go
in for a couple of hours on Friday, to take part in the Ballbuster, but
then again, I might not. We'll just see how it goes. My boss left it up
to me, and I instantly thought, "Hell yeah! I'm outta here,
jack!" But then the guilt started creeping in....
In any case, it's almost over. Today they're having the big holiday
buffet at work. As you might've guessed, I'm not really a fan. But at
least it's not a "pot luck" (aka other peoples' filth),
it's catered. Yes, it'll probably be five or six stainless steel vats up
on stilts with fire beneath them, housing canned green beans, some sort
of sausage and peppers conglomeration, and a few other things.
Then we'll get to eat with people we don't like ("Busy?"), and
walk away somehow hungrier than when we went in. Happy holidays!
Wonder if they'll ever find a cure for chronic cynicism?
-- I was at the beer store a couple of nights ago (go figure), and the
whole front end of the building was missing. What was once brick and
plate glass was now outsize sheets of plywood. I asked the guy what
happened, and he said an old woman came crashing through a few nights
earlier. She pulled into a parking space out front, then mashed the gas
pedal instead of the brake. "Jimmy was sitting in that chair right
over there, and could've been killed," he said, with high concern.
I made a joke about her gas pedal getting stuck, a vehicular malfunction
that seemingly happens only to people in their 80s and 90s. But he
didn't think it was funny, and neither did the woman in line behind me.
She looked at me with sadness, then shook her head. And the guy behind
the counter reminded me that "Jimmy could've been killed."
Damn, man. Beer store patrons don't usually have the paint stirrer stuck
quite so deep up their asses. They might need to up the dosage.
-- It could be a bit late to get my requests in, but I'd love for Santa
to bring me one of these babies for Christmas. For an aging hipster such as
myself, it might possibly be The Greatest Thing Ever. I'm not going to
allow myself to get too excited too early, but if it does all the
things they claim, I'll probably be forced to change into looser-fitting
trousers soon. Hello?
-- Here's another just-added item to the Surf Report wish list. It's the
first season of Saturday Night Live, complete and uncut.
Apparently it was a wide-open bitch to get all the music rights
straightened out, and it's a minor miracle the DVDs ever made it to
market. Season 2, I hear, might not ever see the light of day.
Anyway, there's undoubtedly big chunks of the first season that I've
never seen, because the show wasn't carried in my neck of the woods
then. I think they just ran old movies, or some such crapola, during the
time slot.
I remember sitting in a waiting room somewhere, flipping through a Time
or Newsweek, and seeing an article about the hippest show on
television. There was a picture of Chevy Chase sitting behind the anchor
desk, and another of Belushi dressed up as a bee. I knew nothing about
it (who are these people?!), and couldn't find it on the dial anywhere.
Surprisingly enough, Charleston, WV was late to the party. And it made
me a little crazy.
So I plan to purchase the box set and exact my revenge on WSAZ TV, just
as I vowed to do thirty-one years ago. Soon, I will rule the world!
-- And speaking of DVDs, Netflix has skipped over Black Christmasthree
times now, and it looks like I won't be able to watch it until after the
holiday. Dammit! Brad has a copy at home right now, and I'm convinced
it's the only one Netflix stocks. To help prove this theory, I've asked
him to put a small red dot on the sleeve, before returning it. If/when I
receive the movie, and the dot is there, then... by golly, I'll know.
-- How does something like this happen?
Today I need a haircut, rather urgently, and yesterday I didn't.
How is it possible?
-- Here's a heartwarming little video for the holiday season. Gather
all the children 'round, grab yourself a 'nog, and hit the play button.
....I'm sorry, I'm getting a little emotional here.
-- It irritates Toney that whenever a new issue of Rolling Stone
or Entertainment Weekly arrives in the mail, I immediately turn
to the back and read the reviews. It's one of those unexplainable little
things that gets under her skin, and we've had actual mini-arguments
about it. She says that magazines are not meant to be read
back-to-front, and I ask her why she's getting so worked up about it.
Heck, the reviews are the only things I care about in those magazines. I
have no interest in a 15,000 word profile on Gwen Stefani, and I sure as
shit ain't reading the political articles in RS. I mean, seriously. I'd
rather slam my face into the whirling blades of an industrial fan.
But I understand things like that. Hell, this whole website
exists because of things like that. People get on the tip of my very
last nerve every single day, with their irritating quirks. And it often
sounds ridiculous and nit-picky when I try to explain it to people. So I
usually just keep it to myself until it festers, and I end up writing
about it here.
So, my question today is about things people do that drives you nuts,
unexplainably so. I'm not talking about the smacking of lips and the
mispronouncing of words like "library," Those are highly
explainable. I'm talking about the things that you can't really justify.
Hopefully I'm being clear here....
Use the comments link below to tell us about it, won't you?
--
I'm almost at the end of the road with 2006, at least as far as my job
is concerned. Tomorrow is my last real workday of the year. I might go
in for a couple of hours on Friday, to take part in the Ballbuster, but
then again, I might not. We'll just see how it goes. My boss left it up
to me, and I instantly thought, "Hell yeah! I'm outta here,
jack!" But then the guilt started creeping in....
another just-added item to the Surf Report wish list. It's the
first season of Saturday Night Live, complete and uncut.
Apparently it was a wide-open bitch to get all the music rights
straightened out, and it's a minor miracle the DVDs ever made it to
market. Season 2, I hear, might not ever see the light of day.